Wrong Name
by darthsydious
Summary: Tumblr Promptfill: Sherlock accidentally refers to Molly as 'Molly Holmes'. Warstan, Mythea, Sherlolly


Molly's face grew red, and she looked at her feet, then glanced up swiftly to Sherlock. If he realized what he'd just said, he clearly was putting on a good show of not noticing. He just went right on talking to the press as if he had not just referred to her as 'Molly Holmes'.

Which she wasn't.

"Sorry, Mr. Holmes, so, just a moment," one of the press agents pushed forward, recorder in hand. "You're saying Doctor Hooper is now Doctor Holmes?"

Sherlock looked at him as if the man had two heads.

"No, I never said such a thing!"

"That's what I heard," the man said.

"Me too," a woman piped up beside him. "Said it twice, in fact."

The others all nodded in agreement, then looked to Molly for confirmation. Sherlock too, turned and faced her, surprised he had made such an error. Molly caught the panic in his eyes, realizing he'd flubbed. Why he'd said such a thing, she wouldn't know, not yet any way.

"He misspoke, obviously," Molly put in. "Our names are often being mixed up-"

"Really." One of the men snorted. "Okay."

At this, Sherlock looked miffed, narrowing his gaze at him.

"Yes, _really_ ," he bit out. The more seasoned members of the press all leaned in, knowing when someone was about to receive a dressing down from the World's Only Consulting Detective. There were still stories about how he'd ruined Kitty Riley. "Doctor Hooper is well published in journals around the country and in foreign countries. She speaks regularly at Oxford and if I misspoke, it is merely because her brilliance is so on par with mine, naturally I would refer to her as mine." He held himself even straighter, squaring his shoulders. "As if anyone else could match her…" he said that last under his breath.

The press all looked to Molly now.

"So…are you taking Doctor Watson's place, helping solve crimes now with Mr. Holmes, Doctor Hooper?"

"Oh! No! Hardly," she gave a nervous laugh, still flying quite high from Sherlock so fiercely defending her, and bragging about her to about six of the most important papers in London. "My particular field is one that Mr. Holmes is familiar with, given his cases, so our paths often cross. This time, I just happened to have the week free, so we decided to give Doctor Watson a holiday."

The questions went on, and Molly fell silent again. In the back of her mind, she did wish she'd been bold enough to snap at the agent and say she was indeed Molly Holmes, just to see the looks on their faces. Clearly, they didn't think she was Sherlock's equal. Well…buggar them, then.

Only Sherlock, as he spoke, reached between them, took her hand and lacing his fingers in hers. He was warm, so she shifted slightly, shoulder brushing against his. As he spoke, he commended Molly's quick thinking, her skill in the laboratories, and how she'd understood right away what the cause of death was, linking the killer to three previous unsolved deaths. In the end, Molly was flushing, smiling at her shoes as Sherlock quite happily went on bragging to them all about how she'd helped solve the case.

The press finally dispersed, questions answered, and Sherlock tugged Molly along to find a cab, still holding onto her hand.

At Baker Street, they found John and Mary were waiting for them, as were Mycroft and Anthea.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, brother-mine?" Sherlock asked as Molly accepted the mug of tea from John's outstretched hand.

"Simply wondering how the meeting went." His eyes twinkled with some mischief, clearly, he'd heard Sherlock's slip-up.

"As they usually do," the younger Holmes shrugged.

"Really? One doesn't usually refer to someone with the wrong surname."

Anthea and Mary were grinning like Cheshire cats.

"I'm sure it was just a mistake," Molly batted a hand, trying to wave it off, clearly having trouble doing so.

"Well what if it wasn't?" Sherlock snapped finally, looking at her directly. "What if I rather like how your name fits rather nicely with mine?"

For a moment, Molly couldn't speak. She stared open-mouthed up at him, and she saw his gaze flick down to her lips, then back up at her eyes again.

"Well…" she began falteringly, then her smile was suddenly bold. "What if I'd rather have a hyphen?"

Mary grabbed John by the arm who grunted.

"Nails, nails, the nails," he hissed, trying his hardest not to spill hot tea on himself.

Sherlock, clearly ignoring them, shrugged, hands in his pockets. "Well it makes no difference to me, would you prefer alphabetically?"

"Does that matter?"

"Well yes," he said with a frown. "Hooper-Holmes-"

"Sounds much better than 'Holmes-Hooper'," Molly interrupted. "Sounds like we're a law-firm rather than a couple."

"Hmm," he nodded, pondering. "Very well. But you'll be the one to tell Mummy, not that she'll care particularly."

"Okay, wait, wait-" John interrupted.

"Oh do catch up, John," Sherlock sighed, rolling his eyes. He took Molly's hand, kissing it gently before stepping past her to collect his violin. "If I misspoke, it is clearly because I have been considering proposing to Molly, which I sort of have, just now. If you'd all leave, I'll do it properly."

Mary and Anthea immediately set their mugs down, collected their bags and started shoving their men out of the door.

"But-" Mycroft began

"But-he-" John also spluttered.

"Shut up, we'll talk about it in the car," Mary said, waving goodbye, kissing Molly's cheek as they passed.

"Oh let's take one car," Anthea added, eyes quite merry as she beamed at Sherlock and Molly. "We can talk on the way."

"On the way where-" Mycroft asked, not liking his being physically hustled out the door.

"To lunch," Anthea and Mary said at once.

"They won't be long,"

"Oh yes we bloody will!" Sherlock called back, quite miffed (for the second time that day). Mary threw him a teasing wink, shutting the door after them, all crowded on the stairway, John and Mycroft both looking confused.

"Now, you were saying," Sherlock turned, suddenly quite smooth charming.

"Oh I believe _you_ were," Molly said, and seated herself in his chair. "And I fully expect a proper proposal, mind, my brilliance, after all, is only matched by the World's Only Consulting Detective."

Sherlock smirked, and knelt down at her feet, all too happy to oblige.


End file.
